


Bloody Voices (and other high school insecurities)

by Random_Inked_Thoughts



Series: Challenges with Backbiter222 [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood, Challenge Response, Cutting, Darkiplier Mark Fischbach, Hearing Voices, Heavy Angst, Insanity, Jack just wants to help, M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, ft. Chica being adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 21:26:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16205990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Inked_Thoughts/pseuds/Random_Inked_Thoughts
Summary: When the day comes to a close, Mark always has alternate opinions. Meet Dark, Google, and Wilford; the voices inside of Mark's head. It's not all sunshine and rainbows up in there either.





	Bloody Voices (and other high school insecurities)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Backbiter222](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Backbiter222/gifts).



> Want to play a fun game with me? If so, keep reading this! If not, skip this part. :) This was a challenge I did with Backbiter222. I was given a theme (angst) and seven phrases to incorporate. I will put those phrases in the end notes. Keep a list as you read of phrases you thought I had to include, and post a comment so I can see what you thought I had to include. Not your cup of tea? That's chill, please enjoy this work for what it is, a work of fiction.

Mark’s head was never empty anymore. The voices were there constantly, though it wasn’t always like that. It had all began freshman year, the first voice he heard when no one was speaking, and only escalated from there.

 

There were three of them. Google was the first. Mark had named him that himself, due to his systematic answering “process” and the incredible memory recollection he seemed to possess, actually becoming quite fond of his constant company. Google was the nicest of the three of them, or at least the smartest one, able to deduce when playing nice would get him what he wanted. He was always brimming with intellectual facts and fun tidbits of info. 

 

“How many events do I have Tuesday, Google?” Mark asked. A passing man gave him strange looks as he walked by, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t crazy. He had a system, and the system worked.

 

_ You currently have six events on your calendar, and are free from five to six. _

 

“Thanks, Google.”

 

He considered him a resource, just a voice he had thought up to keep himself organized. His mom had always said he needed to stay more organized.

 

However, as time went on and months passed, some of his thoughts become dubious, and seemed to correlate less and less with scheduling and organization.

 

_ You currently know seventeen ways to kill a man.  _

 

He didn’t quite know how to respond to that. “Ok, Google, thanks for that incredibly useful fact.” What the actual fuck?

 

Google saw right through his skepticism. If he had eyes, he would be rolling them.  _ And the award for the most sarcastic goes to… _

 

Mark buried his head in his hands and sighed.

~•~•~•~•~

Secrets don’t stay secret forever, and Mark’s was no exception.

 

“Mark, you might want to consider getting help for this,” The green haired man stared up at him, hiding his concern well. 

 

“I knew it! I trusted you with this, just like I trust you with everything, and you think I’m crazy!” Mark frowned. “I’m not crazy!” 

 

Jack let out a small puff of air, put out by Mark’s attitude. “I don’t think you’re crazy, Mark, I just think… ya know, sometimes you need to get help for these kinds of things. It’s okay to reach out. You don’t have to insist you’re fine if you’re not! I’m on your side here!” Jack was flushing slightly, anger coloring his cheeks. 

 

Mark looked him up and down again, heart heavy. “You’re cute when you’re angry.” 

 

Jack’s angry flush turned into full out blushing, his entire face turning red as he spluttered awkwardly. Still, this didn’t quiet Mark’s fast beating heart, deal with his fear, or crush his disappointment. Jack didn’t think he was normal. 

 

_ Way to change the topic, Mark.  _

 

Shut up.

~•~•~•~•~

It took two years, but Dark was the second to appear, a twisted version of the character he sometimes pretended to be, just for laughs. He was quieter than Google, but mostly because Mark refused to acknowledge his existence. Like with Google, however, Mark felt the need to tell his friend as he had before. 

 

“Mark, you really should get some help for this,” Jack was staring at him, concerned. They hadn’t spoken of Google since that fateful night years ago, and Jack probably had assumed the problem had fixed itself.

 

“No, it’s fine, I swear. He doesn’t get in the way of school, and I’ve been listening to him for months. He’s just a figment of my imagination, I know that.” Mark looked at the slightly smaller Irish man, smiling down on him. He wasn’t concerned.

 

**You’d do well to listen to him, Mark. Normal people don’t hear voices in their heads. Normal people don’t respond to voices in their heads. You need help, and I’m not talking short term either.**

 

“Shut up.” 

 

“I didn’t say anything.” Jack frowned slightly. 

 

“Not you.” Mark smiled, his mask slipping efficiently back into place. “Come on, we have a test to study for. Where was the battle of Bull Run fought, and during what year?”

~•~•~•~•~

“Google, when do I need to be at Jack’s?” 

 

**Why would he want to see you?**

 

“Literally any time but now, Dark.” Mark closed his eyes briefly, washing away the self doubt that came with any statement that Dark uttered. 

 

**Come on Mark, I don’t have all day, I’m eating toast here.**

 

“You’re actually a figment of- no you can’t- can I please talk to- you know what, I hope he eats you!” Mark finally snarled out. 

 

**The insults could use some work.**

 

“Just leave me alone right now?” Mark finally asked, defeated.

~•~•~•~•~

Dark was persistent, though. He stayed at the edge of his vision, always watching. He jumped at any flaws he could find, and chastised him gleefully for all of his mistakes. He was there every time Mark fell, ready to kick him when he was down.

 

**Seriously, a C+? Why didn’t you try harder?**

 

My grades don’t define me. It just slipped away from me this time. I’m fine. 

 

**You’re worthless.**

 

No I’m not, so don’t even try to tell me. Everyone has worth. Jack tells me all the time.

 

**Why does that Jack boy even like you? You can’t do shit.**

 

Don’t say that, please.

 

**You useless fuck, what is your life even worth?**

 

Something… I think. Everyone’s here for a reason.

 

**Wow, another mistake, just like you.**

 

Stop. Please.

 

**If only you were normal, maybe you could tell him how you feel. It doesn’t matter. He’d reject you anyway.**

 

...

 

**That’s what I thought.**

 

Dark became the reason he stayed up late, slicing his wrists to bits. Dark loved to watch him suffer. Dark was the voice behind his insecurities, fueling them at every opportunity. 

 

To say that Jack didn’t understand at this point was an understatement. Mark felt himself try to throw up emotional barriers between the two of them, but his now boyfriend would not have it. 

 

“You never wear muscle shirts anymore Mark, is something wrong?” Jack was curled against his side, looking up at him with those ocean blue eyes that never failed to get Mark’s heart beating faster.

 

“It’s getting colder out, Sean Bean.” Mark smirked as he pronounces Sean’s name the same way he would pronounce the word “seen.” He paused. “Besides, you’re wearing long sleeves too.” Sean was indeed wearing long sleeves, a long beige jacket that was two sizes too big on him. 

 

“It’s got ears too! Look!” Sean was distracted for a moment, excited to show Mark. He pulled up the hood, bringing his hands up like cat paws. “Meow.” 

 

Mark let out a small chuckle. 

 

“I look just like a cat!” Sean continued, smiling as he cozied up to Mark again. 

 

_ So that’s what a cat looks like.  _ Google’s deadpan voice brought Mark back to reality. 

 

**Well, he is a furry.**

 

Mark almost choked, sending himself into a small coughing fit. 

 

“You okay?” Jack looked back up at him, concern returning to cloud his features.

 

“Yeah, all good.” Mark tried his best at a casual smile, but he was screaming. Shut up, shut up, shut up. You can talk about me all you want, but leave Sean out of your heckling. He doesn’t deserve it!

 

**More like you don’t deserve him.**

~•~•~•~•~

Wilford was the last voice to appear. He came late one night, by the time that Mark’s mind had blurred and he couldn’t tell Google’s thoughts from Darks, and Dark’s from his own. The words on the page in front of him were swimming in themselves, and he had been reading the same line on imperialism to himself for six minutes straight. Chica sat under his chair, silently gnawing on a bone.

 

Somebody’s a little… tired out.   A faint chuckle could be heard behind those echoing words.

 

“Not right now Google.” Mark rubbed his eyes a little. “I’m going to sleep soon, I just have to,” Mark let out a huge yawn. “Finish this up.”    
  


_ That was not me. It seems that you are in need of a recharge, Mark. Get some sleep. _

 

“Sorry Google. Shut up Dark.” Mark closed his textbook slowly, stretching and standing up.

 

**Can’t even tell the voices in your own fucking head apart.**

 

Wrong again.

 

It was then that it clicked. “You’re new.” 

 

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! He gets it, ladies and gentlemen!

 

By now, Mark was used to it. “Who are you, what do you want?” He yawned and began moving to his bed, Chica jumping up and trotting alongside him as he did. 

 

Shoot the dog.

 

“What? No, you fucking psychopath!” 

 

Chica whined beside him, concerned at his sudden outburst.

 

Juuusssttttt kidding!

 

“Is this all just a joke to you? What do you want? Why won’t you all just leave!?” Mark knew his voice was raising in volume, he felt tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, and he knew his brother could probably hear him at this point, but he just didn’t care. He was tired, and the voices in his head had just told him to murder his own dog. “I have the right to be emotional!” He justified to no one, as they all refused to respond. “Oh, lovely! Well, you were all so keen to harass me before, where have you gone now? Come on guys, I’m only human, and I can’t wait forever!” Mark snarled out through gritted teeth. 

 

I _ f you’re human, what does that make us? _

 

He could hear knocking on his locked door. Mark sat there for a moment, computer screen bright on his face, scars adorning both wrists, dark bags under his eyes, and something inside of him broke. “How do I get rid of you?”

 

_ You can’t.  _

 

The answer was simple, and not one that Mark wanted to hear. “No,” He growled out, lips curling back to reveal a grimace. “I want out. A get out of jail free card. A nope. I’ll ask you again Google, how do I get deal with you?”

 

**The same way you deal with everything, coward.**

 

That was all it took. Mark was scrambling for his drawer, arms shaking. He could hear his brother calling his name now, could hear his own blood pumping through his veins. His fingers shook as he held up the small blade in a familiar grip. 

 

Chica let out another whimper. 

 

Mark made direct eye contact with himself in the mirror across from his desk. His own reflection stared back at him through the glass, fear stricken. 

 

I’m in control, I’m in control, I’m in control.    
  


The first cut was the hardest, it always was. The pain was sharp, though not unfamiliar, as he criss crossed over all of his old cuts. Blood rolled to the surface of the wound, puckering up around the edges and finally rolling over to the side, down his arm. 

 

This is the way that I win.

 

More slices, harder, faster, deeper. The blood spilled like silk, red and glossy and metallic. He could drown in it if he wanted to. Mark sliced again. 

 

**This is how you beat us.**

 

Was it just him, or was there a mocking edge to Dark’s voice? His vision was getting fuzzy, Mark couldn’t be sure. 

 

Did someone say kill me? 

 

The blood was spilling faster now, Mark could hear the slight clink of the razor blade as it struck the floor. Chica began to howl. 

 

_ But Mark, what about Jack?  _

 

Mark froze, tears welling up into his eyes as he thought of a green haired boy with ocean blue eyes. 

 

Mark, you really should get some help for this…

 

Jack's words echoed through his head. The headache became too much, and he finally let the tears flow, trickling down his cheeks as the blood trickled down his wrists. 

 

_ If you had tried to overdose, it would have killed you by now. _

 

"Jack… I’m sorry."

**Author's Note:**

> Here are the phrases I had to include in the challenge:  
> Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!  
> Shoot the dog.  
> And the award for the most sarcastic goes to…  
> If you’re human, what does that make us?  
> I hope he eats you.  
> So that’s what a cat looks like.  
> Well he is a furry.
> 
> Please please please go check out Backbiter222! He does lots of angsty original works, and not enough people read them. We've done a challenge before, and will continue to do them in the future. He will also hopefully be posting his half of the "phrase incorporation challenge" soon as well. Thanks for reading!


End file.
